Terror Comes In Small Identical Packages
by helloitea
Summary: Steve Rogers would say, rather fairly, that he's not surprised by anything anymore. Except that when he knocked on the door of Stark Mansion, it opened and a small boy was standing behind it. Very short kid!fic with father!Tony can be read as pre-stony or friendship.


**A/N: ****I'm supposed to be updating Ragnarok, I know, but I had this idea and it wouldn't leave me alone so have a random almost Stony kid!fic. I really like Janie and Jamie so I might write more in this universe but I don't know, I kind of like it as a one shot too. What do you think? More or leave it?**

**Thanks for reading and if you're waiting for Ragnarok, I am so, so sorry.**

**Terror Comes in Small Identical Packages**

Steve Rogers would say, rather fairly, that he's not surprised by anything anymore. I mean, if you think about it, he woke up sixty years in the future and since then he joined a team of superheroes that includes a man that transforms into a giant green monster that's twice his height and about as big around as the old oak tree in the park he played in when he was well enough as a child. That's not to mention the demigod he works with, the one that fights with a magic hammer.

After a month of being in a constant state of awe at this new world Steve was living in, he'd just given up ghost. Oh, you can fit a phone in your pocket now? That's convenient. People do bedroom talk in public now? A bit indecent but whatever. Being a homosexual isn't illegal anymore? Took them long enough.

For God's sake, one of the first things he did when he woke up was to stop an alien invasion! So, yes, Steve would say he's not surprised anymore.

Except that when he knocked on the door of Stark Mansion, it opened and a small boy was standing behind it, hand on the knob, looking up at Steve with big, inquisitive chestnut eyes from behind an untamed mop of wavy almost-black hair. Steve blinked down at the boy. He knew he had the right address, the giant, intrusive, ostentatious house was proof enough of that, but why was there a child here? Did Stark have someone over?

The boy took a nervous step back, ducking his head and slouching his shoulders shyly. Steve shook himself and plastered on the face that had gotten him through his USO days.

"Hey there, son. Is Mr Stark here?" Steve asked warmly. The boy ducked down further, eyes never leaving Steve. He felt oddly like he was being judged.

Steve opened his mouth to say something else but then the boy yelled over his shoulder, "Dad! Captain America's at the door!" and ran off into the house, leaving Steve standing gobsmacked in the doorway.

Dad? The kid had just said 'dad'. Stark was a _father? _Tony Stark, self and media proclaimed playboy? Never-thinks-about-anyone-but-himself Tony Stark?There was no way that could be right. Maybe Stark was busy somewhere and the boy had been calling his own father, one of Stark's guests or something like that. That had to be it.

Only it wasn't because that was when Tony Stark came skidding around the corner in an apron, covered head to toe in flour and trying vainly to wipe some of it off onto a rag and Steve was starting to think that maybe it was just Starks that had the ability to surprise him anymore (see; Battle of Manhattan, Nuclear Bomb, Wormhole).

"Very funny, kiddo!" Tony shouted back into the recesses of the mansion. "Why would Captain-" Then his eyes caught Steve shifting awkwardly just the other side of the doorway. "Oh. Not kidding, okay then, hey, Cap. What can I do for you?" Tony had a small polite smile on his face but he couldn't stop his eyes from flicking nervously in the direction the boy had run. The silent truce they'd struck post-Chitauri hung heavily in the air between them but Steve had to ask, it was just…

"You have a son?" He couldn't quite keep the incredulity from his voice. The smile turned from polite to menacing, eyes hardened and lips thinned and Steve was sure this was the face that greeted his board of directors after the lockout incident he remembered from Stark's file.

"Yes, I do," the Iron Man replied. "And you are going to come in so we can have this conversation where the vultures won't overhear, the walls have eyes, Cap, rule numero uno of the future." Stark continued to babble but all the words went over Steve's head as he tried to fight down the shocked expression and the torrent of questions brimming behind his teeth, following Stark numbly into the house.

He led Steve through to an expansive, elaborate if somewhat dated kitchen. The floor was tiled in a warm cream and the walls were painted a soft powder blue, the cabinets were a warm cedar, the benchtops matched the floor and were the perfect shade to hide the flour and sugar that had spilled across their surface. All the appliances had obviously been replaced, the ultra-modern chrome out of place in the homely space, and all of them baring the Stark Industries logo on their front. A row of barstools ran across the front of the bench that split the room in half, the boy perched on the one furthest from the door.

"You _demon!" _Tony cried and Steve nearly jumped out of his skin. The boy's head snapped around and Steve could see a bowl of batter in front of him, his fingers crammed guiltily in his mouth. Tony was across the room and wrangling the boy into his arms before Steve could even blink. "James Howard Stephen Stark! What did I say? I said you had to wait an hour for it to bake and you could lick the bowl _when we were finished! _ Just for that Janie gets the bowl," Stark declared.

"NooOoo!" the captive whined, arms and legs flailing trying to get free. "Don't give it to Janie! She's mean and ugly!" Tony cuffed him lightly on the head, gentle and scolding.

"Jamie, you don't say things like that about people, okay? Now go to the time out corner while I talk to Mr Rogers and if you're good, I might reconsider giving the bowl to Janie. Go on, shoo," Tony ordered, setting down his squirming parcel and planting his hands on his hips authoritatively. Jamie hunched his shoulders and shuffled off dejectedly. Stark shook his head. "What a drama queen."

"I wonder where he gets that from," Steve mumbled. Stark startled, seemingly having forgotten that Steve was in the room. He smiled wanly and straightened up, steeling himself for the coming conversation.

"Have a seat, Rogers. Ask away, I'm just gunna put this in the oven," he invited, gesturing to what was left of the bowl of batter. Steve heaved himself onto one of the stools, watching Stark scrounge around in a cabinet for a cake pan, puffs of flour pluming into the air as he ruffled his hair absently.

Steve didn't know where to start, he just had so many questions; where's his mother, why doesn't anyone know, where was he during the invasion. He settled on the first one that came to mind.

"Stephen?" he asked, one eyebrow raised. Stark let out a surprised chuckle, closing the oven door and throwing the rag onto the table.

"_Hawking, _smartass. Don't get any ideas," he smirked. Steve didn't know who that was but it didn't really matter right then, he could look it up later.

"How old is he?" That seemed like the next most important question. Stark propped his hip against the bench, arms crossed and a small, proud smile pulling up the corners of his mouth. Steve was pretty sure he'd never seen the man smile that way before, not in person in the brief time they'd known each other nor in any of the media articles and videos that had come in his briefing package. It was warm and genuine.

Just as he opened his mouth to answer, the sound of pounding feet broke the quiet in the kitchen and a chorus of 'daddy, daddy, daddy' brought both their attention around to the archway that led into the room. A little girl ran in waving a piece of paper about above her head and an excited grin splitting her face. She looked just like the boy, same oval face, same big, round eyes only hers were a stormy steel blue and her shoulder-length hair, instead of the dark mop that Jamie had, fell in graceful loose curls of sandy blonde.

"Daddy, look, I finished my homework! Can I have some- Oh…" When she saw Steve, she stopped and backed up a little, clinging to the doorframe and hiding her face behind the sheet. "H-hello, mister," she squeaked.

Steve shoved his shock away for the third time that day (_it _must_ be Starks, _he decided) and smiled tentatively. "Hi there."

"Ah, my darling Queen Angel!" Tony professed, gliding around the table and scooping the girl into his arms, smiling goofily when she squealed. He ducked his head. "How fairs you, my lady?"

She giggled delightedly and Steve watched on, shaking his head slowly. It was like a well-choreographed play. "I am well, Sir Iron," she replied and held out her hand. Tony took it in his free hand and kissed her knuckles gently, lifting his head. She looked around quickly. "And where is Squire James?" she asked primly, the quiver of her cheeks ruining her affected countenance. Tony shook his head resignedly.

"I'm afraid Sir Demon has been locked in Time Out Tower for his slander against the court."

"Slander?" she gasped in mock offense.

"Yes, my queen." Tony leaned in conspiratorially, stage whispering to her, "He has called the queen mean!" And just like that the play was over. The girls face morphed into the most sincere look of indignation Steve had ever seen on a child.

"Nu-uh!" she cried. "He's the mean one, he wouldn't share his crayons with me!"

"And what did you do about it?" Tony asked, an eyebrow raised in challenge. She immediately looked ashamed, ducking her head.

"Stole his cookies," she grumbled into her chest. Tony threw up his hand in defeat.

"Terrors! The both of you!" He put her back on her feet and grabbed the forgotten piece of paper from the tiles. "Go get your brother. Neither of you get to lick the bowl now, you get to sit there and watch Mr Rogers and I do it."

"But Dad-!" she tried.

"No buts!" Stark interrupted and the girl ducked her head, just like her brother had done, and slunk out of the room. Steve cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Well, that was… interesting?"

"Yeah," Tony laughed. "Kind of hard to maintain the badass superhero image while playing Castles and Courts with two little kids."

"Is that why no one knows about them?" Steve didn't meant to ask that.

Tony's laughter vanished as he looked at him.

"God, no, what kind of man do you think I am?" he asked, anger in his voice. "Let me ask you this; how many reporters were camped around the house when you walked up?" Steve thought and the only answer he could come up with was 'a lot'. Tony took his thoughtful expression as confirmation. "Exactly. I don't want them to grow up in the spotlight like I did. It was bad for me and it'll be bad for them, I'm not letting them have the same childhood I did."

Steve hadn't expected an answer like that, one that was that heartfelt. He knew Tony resented Howard for the way he was raised but he hadn't thought it'd been that horrible, horrible enough that Tony would swear to never raise his kids that way. Steve had thought that his childhood had been good; getting everything he wanted, being waited on hand and foot. He wondered what happened…

"Stop looking all mopey face," Stark complained. "You have to be a big, stern, manly man and help me punish these small children by eating cake batter in front of them."

Steve laughed and shook his head. "You are one strange man, Stark."

"Come on, we nearly died together," he scoffed. "I think you can call me Tony." Steve smiled up at him. A few minutes later, the kids walked in and together the similarity was even more striking. They each got about two finger-fulls of leftover batter with big pleading eyes watching them sadly before Tony gave a put upon sigh. "You two are pathetic," he declared, shoving the bowl in their direction. They pounced on it like starving hyenas. "Absolutely pathetic."

Steve chuckled amusedly as he followed Tony from the kitchen and into the living room. Tony gathered the toys and books that blanketed the well-loved brown leather couch that dominated the space in front of the wooden television cabinet and dropped onto it, gesturing for Steve to do the same. Tony lifted the piece of paper to his face, grinning as he read through it all carefully.

"Good job on the homework, Janie! You got them all right!" Tony called.

"Thanks, dad!" came the reply.

"They're ten, by the way," Tony said, turning to Steve. It took him a moment to understand where that came from.

"Jamie and Janie the twins," Steve mused.

"It wasn't on purpose, I promise," Tony smiled. "I told Rhodey a long time ago that I'd name my first kid after him and it only felt right to name Janie after her mother…" The smile slipped a little but he shook himself and looked back at Steve. "Anyway, you probably have more questions."

"Mainly just… how?" Tony hummed.

"Always a good place to start. Well, when I was in college, I met this woman named Jane Gerthie, very unfortunate name, many jokes were made, but she was a lovely woman. She and Rhodey were two of the only people who didn't look down on me because of my age." Steve remembered reading somewhere that Tony had gone to college when he was sixteen. He could only imagine what it must have been like to be that much younger than anyone else there.

"We stayed friends after, kept in touch, and about 13 years ago we started dating. It was nice, you know? One of the only real relationships I've had. Then, well, it's two years later and she's telling me she's pregnant and of course I start panicking. I mean, who would ever think I could be a decent father? And she just grabs my hand and asks me if I want to keep it and I say yes, I have no idea why, but I said yes and it was the best decision of my life." Tony had to stop to take a breath then, to just breathe and think. Steve had no idea what was going through his head but he looked just wrecked.

"We decided not to get an ultrasound, god, that was stupid, why did we do that?" He was shaking a little now and Steve put his hand on Tony's shoulder in silent support. He sucked in another breath. "She had a really hard labour. The doctors said if they'd known that we were having twins, it would have been easier but we never got the stupid ultrasound and we didn't know and she just-" Tony choked back a sob and tightened his hands into fists. "Deaths in childbirth nearly never happen anymore but… but Jane always was good at finding a way around impossible." He let out a shuddering sigh and rested his elbows on his knees. "We were going to get married after. I bought the ring and everything." Steve noticed Tony's hand playing with a chain around his neck and he'd never wanted to punch something so badly in his life.

His mother, Sarah had helped in a number of difficult births when he was young. He remembered her coming home on more than one occasion looking older than she had any right to, eyes sad and face pale and cheeks sallow. He remembered her saying that he wouldn't be able to get cookies from Mrs Andrews two doors down anymore and he remembered watching her scrub the blood from her hands, trying to stop the tears that ran down her face.

He opened his mouth to tell Tony that he understood, that he's sorry, to say _anything _to make that defeated look leave the cocksure billionaire's face.

"Dad?" a small voice called from over their heads. Tony straightened up and looked over at the two figures watching cautiously from the doorway.

He gave them a watery smile and opened his arms. "Come here, babies." The both of them scrambled into their father's lap, pushing and shoving to get under his arms and wrap themselves around him. "What's the matter, hmm?" Tony asked, absently stroking their hair. Jamie turned his head to glare at Steve.

"Mr Rogers made you sad," he pouted.

"You said Captain America was good," Janie said, adding her glare to her brother's.

"But he made you sad," they finished together. Steve started stuttering out an apology, feeling the embarrassed flush beginning to colour his cheeks, but Tony just laughed quietly, the sound warm and comforting.

"Mr Rogers didn't make me sad. Daddy just remembered someone that he hasn't seen in a long time and he misses them." Tony's finger twisted the chain again and Steve smiled sadly at him over the twins' heads. He returned it gratefully.

"Well, you shouldn't miss them," Jamie declared, straightening up so he was kneeling in front of Tony. Janie hopped up too, copying her brother without a seconds thought.

"Yeah!" she agreed. "You have us so you shouldn't be lonely. We're better than a _hundred _people, right, dad?" Tony looked between them critically but he broke under the weight of their twin earnest eyes, a smile breaking across his face.

"Of course you are," he said, hugging them close and burying his face in their necks. "What would I need anyone else for?"

"Exactly!" Jamie grinned. "But, um…" He met his sister's gaze over Tony's head.

"Can we have cake now?" they asked together. Tony roared with mirth.

"It is so creepy when you do that," he told them through the laughter.

"Nu-uh!" they chorused and jumped down to head to the kitchen, laughing as they went.

"One last question," Steve said as they hauled themselves up. "What _is it _with the cake?" Tony opened his mouth but Janie beat him to it, her head sticking out from the kitchen.

"Dad almost died again, that means we get cake in our lunch for two weeks," she sing-songed, disappearing inside.

"And I am not at all happy with this arrangement, Jane Virginia Maria Stark! I will be having words with your godmother!" Tony yelled, running into the kitchen and Steve could hear the twin squeals as he chased the children around. It was all so domestic, so normal, so…

…perfect.


End file.
